


God is in the Rain

by LonghornLetters



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Frottage, M/M, Porn With Plot, Rain Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-08
Updated: 2014-08-08
Packaged: 2018-02-12 09:31:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2104641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LonghornLetters/pseuds/LonghornLetters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's raining on Baker Street.  What does that mean to a man with the brain of a philosopher?</p>
            </blockquote>





	God is in the Rain

**Author's Note:**

> I love thunderstorms. Living where I do, they're common in the afternoons during the heat of the summer. Some climatology science that I wish I understood. ANYWAY, this is the modest result of my love of severe summer weather. I've shrouded a tiny bit of smut in a hell of a lot of plot, but do please enjoy.

Sherlock threw open the windows to his bedroom to watch the thick thunderclouds rolling across the London sky. He smiled as the first flash of lightning split the clouds and the downstairs door slammed like an answering clap of thunder. The cool damp air coming in at the windows trailed Sherlock down the hall as he went to open the sitting room windows and unlock the door just as a smiling John Watson was reaching out with his key.

“John,” Sherlock greeted with an imperious nod as if he hadn’t just been rushing around the flat opening all the windows to admit the oncoming storm.

“Oh please,” John responded with a fond, if slightly sardonic, laugh as he stepped inside and reached out to enfold Sherlock in a warm hug. “You can try to act all aloof with me,” he murmured and tightened his hold around Sherlock’s waist, “but don’t forget, I know what makes you tick.”

“Feel that wind?” John asked as the breeze ruffled the sitting room curtains and brushed Sherlock’s fringe off his face. The wind carried the moisture of a storm about to break.

“Smell that air?” he breathed raising his hands to run his fingers through all that thick, curly hair. Sherlock nodded and inhaled reflexively, the motion pulling the intoxicating scent of petrichor deep into his lungs.

“Then we both know what’s coming,” John murmured against the underside of Sherlock’s jaw right before he planted a gentle kiss where his words had just landed. He nodded as the combination of the weather and John ghosting gentle kisses down his neck created the ideal compliment.

“Come on, then,” he smiled running his hands across Sherlock’s shoulders and down his arms before grabbing his hands and pulling him towards the bedroom.

Sherlock trailed John down the hall trading kisses all the way into their bedroom where he stripped off his blue dressing gown. Outside, the wind had picked up even more and the lightning flashed and thunder crashed closer and at more regular intervals. The first drops of rain splashed down on the windowsill releasing the first hint of relief from the earlier heat of the day.

“I see no case means no trousers,” John said with a laugh pulling Sherlock close by the waistband of his pyjama bottoms. After a pause and a pointed glance, “no pants, either, I guess.”

“Nope.” Popping the plosive at the end of the word gave Sherlock’s response an added irreverence that made John roll his eyes, but he let go of the pants and watched them settle on Sherlock’s hips. While John reached up to begin unbuttoning himself from his work clothes, Sherlock turned towards the open window and tugged his shirt over his head then let it slip from his fingers as he approached the window. He stood in the frame and held his hands out to let the drops collect in his outstretched palms. They shivered as fragile, individual droplets for a single second before rolling down to collect in his palms.

Once John stripped down to just his trousers and bare feet, he came over and wound his arms around Sherlock’s waist. Sherlock tilted his head back as if to welcome the rain on his face even though his head stayed well inside the bedroom. John, seeming to balance his lover’s pose, bent his head forward and breathed in the scent of clean skin that mingled with the smell of the rain that had progressed beyond a simple drizzle and would soon be well into downpour territory. In that moment, they could have been the only two people in London.

While they stood at the window, John trailed his nose from freckle to scar to freckle across Sherlock’s warm back while he fiddled idly with the tie that held Sherlock’s pants on his lean frame. He smiled to himself as he considered all the marks that both genetics and a dangerous life had bestowed on this skin that made it so unique. A rumbling chuckle made him pull away and look up at Sherlock.

“You didn’t shave before going to work this morning.”

“Yes…”

“It tickles a bit is all.”

John smirked and rubbed his cheek between the shoulder blades that still stuck out more than John really liked, but he enjoyed the soft laughter that greeted the motion. Sherlock turned in his embrace and pressed his now considerably cooler chest against John’s as the heavens opened and the storm truly began.

“Come lie down and watch the rain with me,” Sherlock cajoled, spinning them so that he was once again facing the open window as he pulled away and kicked his pants off all while backing toward their bed. John smiled as he let Sherlock pull him across the room, but he did extricate his hands long enough to make quick work of his trousers and pants. Flopping back onto the unmade bed, he grabbed John’s wrists to pull him down too. As they tangled arms and legs trying to arrange themselves into some semblance of comfort, a massive bolt of lightning flashed across the sky, adding to the illumination the room for a split second before the entire flat plunged into darkness. The clap of thunder that followed almost instantly sounded as if it were directly overhead.

“Jesus! I don’t think I’ve been in a storm this bad since I was in Afghanistan,” he said turning towards the window where rain was now falling in translucent sheets. “I suppose the power cut doesn’t _really_ matter since we usually turn the lights off in this kind of weather anyway.”

Sherlock took advantage of John’s momentary distraction and lack of balance as he leaned on one arm to look out the window to snake his arm around John’s waist and flip them so that he was lying under Sherlock. Another burst of lightning lit the darkness of the flat and John could see the mischievous glint that lit Sherlock’s rain grey eyes from within.

“John?” Sherlock murmured as he leaned down to plant a kiss at the corner of John’s mouth. “Do you know why I enjoy storms like this so much?” A smooth roll of his hips brought their cocks into contact, causing John to suck in a shuddering breath at the sudden, pleasurable friction.

“N-not really,” he stuttered as Sherlock repeated the motion in tandem with another flash that highlighted sharp cheekbones and plush lips with equal grace.

“Because…” the smooth, insistent rock of their hips continued as Sherlock dipped his head to slant his mouth completely over John’s and twist their tongues together while thunder shook Baker Street to its foundations. “Because,” he resumed in a somewhat breathless voice, “they possess so much unbridled _power_.”

“Power?” John asked with mock innocence as another bolt turned his blue eyes nearly gunmetal in the gloom. “I suppose I can understand that,” he said as he began thrusting up to meet Sherlock’s hips, eliciting a gasp of surprised pleasure.

As they moved together with the languid sensuality of people who have nowhere to be and nothing more important than this moment, John let the tension build naturally, but he took advantage of the momentary stutter in Sherlock’s rhythm that indicated he was getting close just from the delicious slide of skin on skin to lock his legs around Sherlock’s and flip their position so that John now rested on Sherlock’s chest. Once John had laced their fingers together next to Sherlock’s head, he resumed their earlier pace, but he could tell as he dropped his head to mouth sloppy kisses up Sherlock’s neck, neither of them would last much longer.

As John pushed Sherlock closer to climax, he watched that long, pale neck arch in the blue-white light of the storm and he caught those breathy sighs of pleasure in his mouth so the thunder couldn’t drown them out; he realized all the power and pleasure to be had during a thunderstorm.

When he came, Sherlock was always a sight to behold, and today was no different. His eyes fluttered briefly closed before they flew open and he exhaled John’s name as a soft sigh of utter contentment. That always got him. His name, just the one, simple syllable, said with such conviction and trust by a man who would sincerely tell anyone that caring was not an advantage never failed to push him over the peak, and John came almost immediately after with his eyes clenched shut and the first half of Sherlock’s name in his mouth.

John collapsed onto Sherlock’s chest ignoring, for the moment, the mess between them. Breathing in the air that smelled of sex and rain, John settled a bit closer enjoying the intimacy that came with sharing the same space and breathing the same air. While they caught their breath, John dimly recognized the return of the white noise that signalled power once again running through the flat.

“Sherlock?” John prompted as he jiggled their still-joined hands.

“Mmm?” Sherlock had once again turned to face the open window.

“What is it you like about storms?”

“I told you, John. The power. It is observable but not predictable. It’s a raw, untamed thing of beauty, much like the ocean.”

John nodded and resettled himself against Sherlock’s front as the rain continued to pound down outside the window and occasional thunder still rolled distantly across the sky. He lay with his face pressed into the crook of Sherlock’s shoulder and thought of Mycroft’s derisive tone towards the little pirate king with the brain of a philosopher. A sudden impulse struck John and he rolled over to make for the loo to retrieve a flannel.

“Where are you going?” Sherlock demanded with a note of displeased surprise.

“Getting us something so we can clean up and then call for some dinner.”

“Oh.” Sherlock grabbed John’s pants from off the floor and used them to wipe himself off as he made his way back to the open window.

“Movie night?” John called from inside the bathroom.

“Not one of those horrid Bond things,” Sherlock shouted back as he grabbed his phone off the dresser and dialled their usual Chinese takeaway.

“No, actually, I was thinking of something el-…are those my pants?”

“You were statistically unlikely to want to put them back on,” Sherlock responded before tossing the now-soiled boxer briefs in the direction of the laundry hamper.

John sighed, mostly for show since Sherlock was actually right about him not putting the pants back on, and grabbed a pair of jogging bottoms and a t-shirt from the basket of clean clothes he’d been meaning to put away for days while Sherlock spoke into the phone.

Thirty minutes later, cleaned up and dressed in pyjamas, they settled in front of the telly with plates of takeaway.

“So what are we watching?” Sherlock demanded, setting his plate on the coffee table while he split their chopsticks and John fiddled with the DVD player.

“Something good, you’ll like it,” John evaded.

“That’s what you said about _From Russia with Love_ ,” Sherlock responded with a look that clearly said he was hesitant to trust John’s taste in movies a second time.

“This one’s different. No secret agent saving the world. Actually, V has about as much love for the government as you do,” John said with a chuckle. “Look,” he continued more seriously, “I picked this because there’s a scene in here that really fits with what you were saying earlier, so I thought you might like it. Just give it a chance.”

“Very well, although I hardly see how rain and anti-government terrorism go together.”

“Just shut up and watch. You’ll know it when you see it.”

John smiled as the movie played and Sherlock eventually abandoned his dinner in favour of leaning his head against John’s shoulder. He sighed quietly and settled more firmly against the heat radiating from John’s side as the rain-cooled wind continued to blow through their sitting room windows even though the storm was long past.

**~~END~~**

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first stab at anything remotely in the realm of smut, so please understand.


End file.
